


the boy in the basement

by freakedelic



Series: Fun for the Whole Family [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: AU - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Branding, Child Abuse, Degradation, Father/Son Incest, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Mild Mindbreak, Orgasm Denial, Torture, Trans Dick Grayson, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakedelic/pseuds/freakedelic
Summary: “Fucking hell.” The rough tones are deeper and crueler than Grant’s. The boys only have a split second chance to react before Grant is being tugged away, Joey taking a step back. “I leave you boys alone for three fucking hours.”Slade stares down in disgust at the boy at his feet. “And you. I bet you begged for it, didn’t you, slut?”The boy shakes his head, eyes wide, speaking more words than Joey has heard from him. “No - no - I told him no - ”Grant is fumbling. “He tried to bite me!”OR: Slade brings home a new pet. The boys take an interest.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Grant Wilson, Dick Grayson/Joey Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Grant Wilson/Joey Wilson, Grant Wilson/Slade Wilson, Joey Wilson/Slade Wilson, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson/Joey Wilson/Grant Wilson
Series: Fun for the Whole Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585756
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	the boy in the basement

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt on my tumblr!! thank u anon ur brain is Large.

_Where did you get that?_ Joey signs. The key gleams in the light, Grant slipping it in the lock and turning it with a small _click_. The door to the basement opens with a slow creak.

“Pops needs to learn to be more careful with his keys,” Grant hisses back. There’s no reason to whisper, what with Ma being gone and Pops being out, but it feels like they should. Joey shifts from foot to foot nervously. Grant pushes past his brother to start down the stairs, Joey glancing nervously back as he starts down. The door remains cracked.

 _I still don’t know what we’re doing here_ , Joey tells him.

“He’s spending more time _down here_ than with us,” Grant says angrily, a few steps ahead.

 _Isn’t that a good thing?_ Joey wants to ask, but it’s always pointless to interrogate Grant about Slade.

Grant reaches the bottom of the stairs, but it’s so dark that Joey almost bumps into him.

_Are you sure we should be -  
_

“Shut up, Jo,” Grant mutters, fumbling for the light switch. It flicks on to a small, cold room. They’ve been in the basement before, but this time it seems crueler, somehow. A door towers on the right, but their eyes are drawn to something else - the boy curled up on the ground, blinking dull eyes at them.

Dark, stringy hair falls around a deathly pale face. The boy’s utterly naked, and Joey thinks that he must be cold by the way he wraps his arms around himself and huddles in the corner. The chain is connected to a loop on his collar, snaking around him and latched to the wall.He had some idea of what Slade was keeping in the basement - the food he brought down there gave some idea. Grant seems less surprised. He must’ve known.

“He’s more interested in this than in his real family,” Grant says viciously. He doesn’t seem entirely sure of himself, now that he’s found the object of his anger, but he steps forwards anyways.

 _Careful_ , Joey signs. The boy looks like he might be feral or … something. He’s filthy, but it’s hard to tell the dirt caked under his nails apart from the bruises that stain his skin. But he doesn’t move, or hurt Grant.

“Don’t worry,” Grant says. Joey follows after him, hiding behind his brother’s wider figure. The boy’s eyes go wide at the mention of Slade, but he still doesn’t move. “I know what to do. I saw.” His eyes narrow. A hand fumbles with his belt, fingers slipping below the waistline.

Joey makes an indignant face. _Grant!_

“It’s what Slade does,” Grant says. Joey can see him hardening, working himself to readiness. “I want to see how he like this.”

_Grant, are you sure -_

Grant turns on him. “C’mon, Jo, it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.” He pulls him closer. “Just follow my lead.” Grant’s cock slips out of his fly, one hand still on it as he grabsa hold of the chain to yank the boy forward. He stumbles, eyes wide. Joey catches sight of between his legs - barely any hair, and no dick, just a cunt.

“Please - ” the voice is cracked, as if it hasn’t tasted water in days.

“C’mon,” Grant says. The head of his cock bumps against a bruise on the boy’s cheek. “You know what to do. Do what you did for Pops.” A hand grabs at the boy’s stringy hair. “Suck.”

Wide blue eyes stare. Then, the boy shakes his head. Grant looks furious. He tries to force fingers into the boy’s mouth, prying apart his lips as his opponent shakes his head, despite the hand in his hair. Saliva gets all over Grant’s fingers as he tries to force the boy’s mouth open, hissing in anger.

“Fucking hell.” The rough tones are deeper and crueler than Grant’s. The boys only have a split second chance to react before Grant is being tugged away, Joey taking a step back. “I leave you boys alone for three fucking hours.”

Slade stares down in disgust at the boy at his feet. “And you. I bet you begged for it, didn’t you, slut?”

The boy shakes his head, eyes wide, speaking more words than Joey has heard from him. “No - no - I told him no - ”

Grant is fumbling with his still-hard dick and his fly. “He tried to bite me!”

Slade snaps his fingers. “Shut up, both of you.” He points at Grant and Joey. “If you’re so desperate to be down here, you’ll help.” Then he turns on the boy at his feet. “You tried to _bite_ him.”

The expression on the other boy’s face is one of the purest expressions of fear that Joey has ever seen. “I’m sorry,” he babbles, whispered and low. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean - I don’t - I wouldn’t have - I’m sorry, please -”

“Guess you aren’t well trained enough, then.” Slade crouches, drawing another key from his belt. It slips into the lock of the boy’s collar. “Good. You’ll serve as a lesson.” The boy’s eyes are wide, and he’s shaking his head, scrabbling at the stone with worn-down fingernails.

“Master - please - I didn’t mean to.”

“Stand up, boy.” The child shudders to his feet and Joey can see how small he is - much smaller than Grant, but only a little bigger than himself. “Hands against the wall. Like that.”

 _Pops_ , Joey signs, realizing his own hands are shivering. _Pops, what are you doing?_

“Punishing my property,” Slade says, barely even glancing in Joey’s direction. Another whimper from the pale boy. Grant’s eyes are narrowed. “Pay attention, boys.”

The slick sound of Slade’s pocketknife opening makes Joey nervous, but it only seems to make Grant more excited. His eyes are bright and cruel. They remind Joey of Slade, vicious in the light.

The tip of the knife presses against the nameless boy’s back. Joey can see the muscles taut beneath it, the underfed body tensing with fear. “What’s it going to be this time, I wonder?” Slade muses. There are scars crisscrossing the boy’s back, some too faded to read, some disappearing into the mess of roping tissue. Joey watches in horror as the knife sinks in, deeper than it has any right to go, crimson blooming around the cut.

The only sound as Slade cuts is the whimpering of the boy who’s being cut into, hands pressed flat against the wall as he shakes.

“Stay still,” Slade says, “or the next place this knife is going is your cunt.”

Joey marvels at the strength of will it must take to stay still, but the boy barely moves as Slade cuts, and cuts, and cuts, until any rhyme or reason to them is lost in the deluge of blood. Vomit burns in the back of Joey’s throat. A hand grabs his wrist, and Joey sees that it’s Grant, eyes lit up with that horrible fervor. Grant pulls Joey closer by his hand, as if he wants him to see.

It’s hard to tell when Slade is finally finished, wiping the flat of the blade off against the boy’s shoulder. “If he acts up,” Slade says, “you give him a reminder of his place.” He turns to Grant, and offers him the knife. “Punish him.”

The boy makes a choked, shivering sound. Grant steps forward, cruelty in his eyes. He shakes his head “Please - ”

“He’ll beg like a girl,” Slade sneers, “but don’t let it get the better of you, son. He’s not sorry until he’s _screaming_.” 

The boy’s body shudders. Blood glints in the light, dripping down his bare thighs and puddling at his feet. Grant yanks the boy’s hair, pushing his head back, placing the knife against the filthy skin of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispers. Joey just stares. He’s left staring a lot, feeling something cold in his gut. This is the kind of thing that happens in the dark, he knows. The thought of doing something - that thought doesn’t cross his mind, though. Not with Slade there.

The knife dips below the skin. The cry is sharper this time, Grant holding the boy’s face in place as he digs the knife in. This time, Joey can see the letter the blood is forming - a _G_ , in childish hand, another stroke with every agonized grasp.

“There we are,” Slade murmurs. “Show him what happens when he disobeys.”

Joey’s hands are shaking. He thinks he makes a choking noise, but it’s too small, too twisted by cut vocal cords. Fingers curl and uncurl, trying to find warmth in his jean pockets.

The knife leaves the skin. Grant doesn’t let go of the boy’s hair, darkness stringing between his fingers. He pants in the light, blood on his blade.

Slade slowly works Grant’s hands out of the boy’s hair. “You wanted him to suck you off, isn’t that right, boy?” Grant nods wordlessly, his hand in Slade’s before it’s dropped. “So make him.” Slade kicks, suddenly; the boy falls to his hands and knees with a cry as his legs go out. He stares up at them all with wide blue eyes - darker than Joey’s own, but with something broken inside them.

“Get him on his knees,” Slade murmurs. Then he crouches, still looming over the boy, who looks smaller than ever, “and make him _listen_. Hit him.”

Grant’s fist pulls back. Joey winces at the vicious _crack_ that echoes through the basement. The boy’s head jolts, snapping to the side.

“Good.” Slade’s voice is cool, calm, like when he taught Grant to nail wood into boards. “Now hit him again.”

Grant’s eyes gleam. Joey looks away as his boot snaps forward. When he looks back through squinted eyes, the boy’s head hangs low, blood gushing from his nose.

He yanks the boy’s head back by his hair. “Tell him what he’s going to do. Be clear. He’s a stupid little thing.”

“You’re going to open your mouth and suck my dick,” Grant says plaintively.

Pale, thin lips open, cutting the trail of blood from the boy’s nose in half. Slade smiles. All Joey can see is the pink of his tongue. “See? Just a little slut. Needs to be reminded what he’s good for, that’s all.”

Grant is already fumbling with his fly. He’s still hard, pulling the boy’s lips flush with his crotch as soon as he can and groaning at the sensation. Saliva dribbles down the boy’s chin, eyes wide. Joey’s mesmerized by Grant moving in and out, gasping as he fucks his cock into the boy’s mouth. There’s a beat of jealousy there, too, and Joey’s _sure_ that Grant doesn’t like the boy as much as he likes him.

Slade slaps the boy’s thigh, hard. “Put some effort into it, whore.” Then he turns his eyes to Joey, and Joey doesn’t like that at all. But when Slade’s finger beckons, Joey can’t refuse, moving forwards to stand behind the boy with Slade. Slade is pulling the boy back by his hips, pushing up his ass until he’s forced to be on all fours if he wants to balance. Grant has his hands in the boy’s hair, pulling him faster onto his dick, the room filled with his panting and the slick sound of saliva.

Joey stands, eyes wide. Slade’s fingers dip into the folds of the boy’s cunt, coming out slick. He laughs.

 _Is he - does he like it?_ Joey asks, hands still shivering a little.

“Of course he does.” Joey can see the wetness stringing between Slade’s forefinger and middle finger. “Look at this cunt. It’s begging for something in it. Come here, Jo.”

Joey moves closer, staring at the drying blood on the boy’s back, the obscene way the back of his head moves as he chokes on Grant. Before he can do anything else, Slade’s fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down to his thighs.

“You ready?” Joey looks down at himself. He’s not hard, not nearly, but Slade’s rough fingers are tracing the shaft and his thumb is teasing the head, and Joey can’t help but let out a low hiss of air. He hardens in seconds under Slade’s fingers, Slade pulling him to his knees.

“There we are,” Slade murmurs. He’s making Joey _ache_ , so much that he pushes forwards, shuffling on his knees as Slade guides his cock into the other boy’s cunt. It’s hot, and wet, and it grips him tight. Joey lets out a hissing sort of moan, just kneeling there, letting his cock sink in.

“Tight, isn’t it?” Slade says. He’s in good humor, now, eyes glinting in the light in the same way that Grant’s do. Joey can see the boy’s head bobbing, Slade murmuring next to him. “Go on. Fuck him.” He presses on the small of Joey’s back to get him to move, and he does, with a small snap of his hips.

Joey’s never been _inside_ anyone before. This is too easy, and it feels to good. His hands grab at the boy’s hips, smaller fingers contrasting against large bruises, pushing himself further inside. There are small sounds slipping from his lips as he starts to move, slowly, savoring every second of it.

The boy shudders around him. The slick sounds from how Grant fucks him makes Joey even harder. He stares up at his brother. Grant is grinning at him, fingers tight in the boy’s dark hair. “This is so fucking good, Joey.” Joey looks as Slade. He’s got a half-smile on his face, too, leaning back on the balls of his feet and watching them. They’re enjoying themselves. Joey should be enjoying himself, too, shouldn’t he?

He is. He has to be. His cock is buried in something tight and slick, the sound of skin on skin as he moves himself in and out. Joey can feel himself getting close, already. It’s the kind of thing Grant might tease him for. But he doesn’t think the boy clenching around him will care.

Grant is first, though. He’s gasping sharper, and then he’s staring at Joey, pulling the boy’s head further onto him. “I’m going to, I’m gonna - ”

Slade is there, one hand on Grant’s shoulder, one hand around the base of his cock. “No. You’re not.” Grant’s face is sweaty, indignant, eyes wide as he glares.

“No - Slade - fucking - ”

“You’re going to beg me to let you come,” Slade murmurs. “You’re going to ask politely to use my property.” Fingers slowly trace Grant’s length, one hand fondling his balls. “You’re going to apologize for touching my things.”

Grant’s face is red, hands trying to push Slade away. “Fuck you - jackass - _fuck_ -” His hips are rutting into Slade’s hand, Slade murmuring right in his ear.

“Say you’re sorry, son.”

“Fuck - fine! I’m fucking sorry! Now just let me - let me fucking - ” Slade’s hands leave and Grant’s hips jerk one last time, come dribbling onto the face of the boy in front of him. Grant gasps, his groans filling the room. It pushes Joey over the edge, grabbing the boy’s hips one last time before finishing as far in him as he can reach, blood staining his fingers.

When Joey looks back up, Grant is coming towards him, dick half-tucked in his pants. Joey pulls himself out of the boy - come leaks out between puffy lips, dribbling down pale thighs. The boy shivers on his hands and knees, trying to move towards the ground, but a heavy hand grabs his collar.

“We’re not done with you, slut.” Slade is tugging him upwards and prying his lips open. Joey notices Slade’s erection pushing at his jeans. He stares at Grant and Joey. “Grant, spread his cheeks. Jo - ”

“Please,” the boy begs, “please, it hurts - ” Thick fingers wrap around his throat. Slade keeps talking as if the boy hadn’t said anything, but Joey can see the body beneath him twitching with the lack of oxygen.

“Don’t let him convince you,” Slade explains, to Joey’s pale expression. “He’ll be begging like a whore soon enough. The bitch doesn’t know what he wants.” He shakes the boy a little, and he shudders more. “Jo, take your first two fingers, get them in his ass. If you don’t pry him open, it’ll be hard to move.”

Joey doesn’t dare disobey. He slips his index finger into the puckered hole, Grant’s eyes on him, and then presses his middle finger in with considerably more difficulty. It’s tight.

“Scissor your fingers,” Slade says. “Open him up.” Joey’s fingers move, back and forth, prying him as wide as he can. It’s hard, at first, but it gets easier as he moves. “See if you can fit in a third finger.” There’s a choked whimper, but the boy - now out of Slade’s grip - doesn’t say anything. With some difficulty, Joey slips in a third finger. Muscles clench around him, as if trying to expel him from the body.

“Spread your fingers as wide as you can.” Joey does, trying to pull him wide. There’s blood there, and he wonders if it hurts. He could stop. He could tell Slade he doesn’t want to do this.

But he doesn’t.

“Now curve them.” Slade has a wicked smirk on his face. Joey does, though, scraping nails along the inside of the boy’s warm body. The boy jerks under him, a low groan coming from his lips. His hips move back to pressing Joey’s fingers into him.

On some level, he _is_ enjoying it.

“You have to know how to touch him,” Slade says. “He turns right into a bitch in heat, though, doesn’t he?” His voice almost sounds fond. “Anytime he tries to act uppity, just show him his place. It’s easy enough.” He turns back to Grant and Joey. “See if you can fit yourself into him. Share with your brother. He’s got two holes.”

“Here, lemme help.” Grant’s voice is husky as he leans in, one hand on his own crotch, one grabbing at Joey’s. This is, at least, something Joey is used to. He hisses at the friction, his own hand snaking down Grant’s pants. Grant grins at him as fingers work Joey to fullness, one hand shoving down his pants to get a better angle. “Now you can fuck him properly.” His hands move from Joey to the boy, spreading his cheeks, showing a pried open hole.

It takes a few tries for Joey to properly push himself in but once he does he finds himself hissing with the pleasure of it. Muscles flutter around his intrusion, rubbing at his dick, tight and hot. It’s even better than the boy’s cunt. If Joey had his hands free he would sign a word like _fuck_ , but all he can do is gasp in choked tones.

Grant’s dick is standing at attention, too, bumping Joey’s thigh as he tries to get in next to him. “Move over,” he mutters, a hand tugging at the boy’s scarred thigh to get at his cunt. Joey’s come leaks out of the folds of it. Grant sticks fingers in to roughly scoop it out before lining himself up. Joey scoots over so he can sink in properly, even if neither of them can get to the hilt.

“Look at you, spreading your legs so nicely.” Slade’s murmuring causes Joey to look up from his own dick and the boy’s bloody back. Slade’s talking to the boy as if he’s a pet, a hand pulling his hair back. “I bet you just _love_ being filled up, don’t you?”

It’s almost, almost tender. Joey feels a spike of strange jealousy. His father doesn’t talk to his sons like that often.

The only answer is a mumbled groan as the boy arches his blood-drenched back to press back against Joey and Grant. Grant’s hands dig into his back, blood smearing them, pulling him tighter around Joey.

Slade’s hand goes to his crotch. Seconds later, his cock hangs free. Joey’s seen his dad’s dick before, but it always strikes him as too _big_ to truly fit anywhere. Especially when it’s swollen and hard, bumping against the face of the boy beneath them.

“Now open your mouth so I can fuck your throat.” Seconds later the boy jerks back onto Joey’s cock, drool dribbling to the floor. Grant’s hips snap in response, pulling him closer, gasping in Joey’s ear. Joey has to push him further away to properly move inside the boy’s ass. Even when he’s only halfway in, it squeeze him tight, warm and inviting.

The debauched sound of Slade fucking the boy’s mouth onto his cock fills the room, Grant’s groans mixing in it, Joey just trying to keep his mind inside his body as he presses in and out. It’s dizzying, but exhilarating, the three of them sheathed in the boy on the floor, using his body. He doesn’t make a sound, choked on Slade, not even at Grant’s rough thrusts and the tentative snap of Joey’s hips. His thighs shiver as he holds himself up, blood still dripping to the floor.

“C’mon, Jo,” Grant rasps. “Isn’t it fun?” He slams into the boy, spreading his cunt wide, rocking him onto Slade’s cock. Slade’s too focused on himself to pay attention, a hand fisted into the boy’s hair as he yanks him back and forth on his cock. Joey moans soundlessly as he moves in and out again. It takes some effort with how tight the passage is but in the end it’s worth it. Before he knows it, Joey is jerking forward - pushing Grant aside to come a second time. He feels it bloom around his cock, warm.

“Can’t last long, can you?” Grant teases. This time Joey has the presence of mind to take a bloody hand and flip him off. Grant sticks his tongue out as he elbows Joey aside to get a better angle into the boy’s cunt. Joey can see his own come dribbling out of the boy’s puckered hole. Grant smears it in annoyance as he starts up a cruel pace. It’s not enough for him, though.

Grant slaps the boy’s thigh, leaving a red print. “Try harder!” His voice is choked, and Joey knows that he’s close too, digging nails into the boy’s hips and fucking him as hard as he can. It’s not as hard as Slade, though. Joey can see how the boy’s head is jerked back with every movement of Slade’s, how he’s rocked between Grant and his father. The blood on his back glints in the light.

“Go on, slut. Show him how tight you are.” Slade pushes the boy’s body back, onto Grant. “Or I’ll let him carve you up a second time.”

Grant is groaning seconds later, pressing himself as far as he can go into the slick folds. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging open, in an expression that Joey knows well. Grant’s cock pulls out of the boy a few seconds later, come leaking onto the floor as the boy collapses with nobody holding onto his hips. The only reason he’s still up is Slade has a grip on his hair, snapping his hips methodically.

Slade’s teeth gleam as he smiles in the light, staring at Joey and Grant. His thrusts stop, and slow, and then the boy is panting with only his hands holding him up. Saliva and come drips down his chin, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. Slade’s cock brushes his forehead before he looks up and licks it clean without being prompted.

“Put your dick away,” Joey tells Grant. Grant stuffs it back in his boxers, fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, mumbling something obscene. Slade finishes with the boy, pushing him to the side. The boy tumbles against the side of the basement, curling in on himself to let Slade step over him. As he does, he leans over, grabbing at the boy’s collar.

“Get over there and apologize.” The boy’s thrown into a pile of bones in front of Grant and Joey, shivering as he looks up at him. The pale face is smeared with come, tracked with tears from choking. The eyes make Joey shudder.

“I - I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes flicking anywhere except their faces.

“Tell them you’re a little whore who forgot his place.”

The face turns down, pale arms wrapping around the rest of the body, holding tight. Stringy hair hangs down around his head. “I - I’m a … whore. I - forgot my place.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Slade turns to Grant and Joey. “Now you two are going back upstairs, and you’re not going to be coming down here again. Understood?”

Grant just stares. Joey nods.

“Unless you want to start taking his place, that is. _Understood_?”

Grant nods, too. Joey pulls on his arm, pulling him past Slade. He lets go only to ask, _Are you coming?_

Slade shakes his head. “No.” He smiles. “He always was hard to teach.”

Joey doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to see that horror on the boy’s face - but he can hear it in his voice, pale and broken.

“Master - master, please - I said I was sorry, it _hurts_ , please don’t - ”

The basement door slams.

All that’s left is Grant and Joey, standing in the kitchen. Slowly, Joey watches Grant draw the key from his pocket. It’s placed on the counter with a soft _click_. Joey and Grant stare at each other, and Joey suddenly feels very, very small.


End file.
